ersehnten und heissgeliebten. He offers himself modestly for the bass solo, "which, though not important, seems to be interesting." It was to be done with all the instruments; and there was a violin obligato, which he pronounced very beautiful, and which every true critic will also pronounce to be so. Prince Löwenstein, who was with him. at Bonn, recalling with delight little sketches of the old student-days, gives a true glimpse of German student-life and its enthusiasm,worth hours of grinding study and a thousand cans of midnight oil, -and tells how the Prince was looked on among the young men as a master in the art. As a performer, he could play with great taste and feeling upon the organ; and in their journeys, when they came to one, the Prince's fingers were sure to try it. And in his visits to London, before his marriage, he seemed to enjoy life through these elegant accomplishments, now drawing, now playing on the pianoforte, with the Princess. There was a true enjoyment in all this: it was a genuine pastime, which the professional musical dilettante does not at all affect; he requires an audience for his patronage. No one relished public concerts more, and the Prince had that personal interest in the music and the players which is such a different thing from the ordinary sense of "going to a concert." He gave an excellent proof of this in his direction of the Musical Society's Concert, when it came to his turn to choose the music. He threw his whole soul into the selection. The result was an admirable programme, full of sound music, not too substantial, and a choice directed by the nicest taste. This was given during the year 1840, and was received with great satisfaction by the public. It has been often remarked how the wish to create that is, to compose always attends a keen enjoyment of any art. He who relishes prose or poetry is inclined to write prose or verse, if not poetry: the connoisseur of painting feels an irresistible impulse to paint; while there is scarcely any one that plays or sings tolerably who has not attempted the "little thing of his own," the trifling sketch or morceau, but too often "composed" at the pianoforte. As a rule, amateur compositions are not bold enough to be bad; they are too weak and insipid to be offensive, and want the decision which in melodrama makes "the bold bad man." The villany is too milkand-watery. Amateur musical writers, too, often recall rather than compose. About the year 1844 or 1845, a dozen songs with German and English words were republished in England, which were announced to be the work of the two royal brothers of Saxe-Gotha, Prince Albert and Prince Ernest. Though Dr. Johnson might declare that the labours of prince or noble are to be received, as it were, with head uncovered, the mere effort being a condescension,-it is scarcely too much to say that these songs do not in the least require any support from such a prerogative. At that time the great British public was deplorably ignorant— and incurious also-as to foreign music; it was but just beginning to make acquaintance with what were called "the German songs." Kücken, Cürschman, Keller, and others of that school, were indeed admired by a few of real taste; but the crowd were listening with delight to things by Messrs. Glover and Alexander Lee, and considered these the very perfection of true music. Who does not recall the ballad of that era, the "We met, 'twas in a crowd," the "Come to me," and other innumerable invitations of that pattern? Some things of the same sort are still chanted, but they are chanted for the groundlings. Now our songs of this order-the "Claribel" description even -are on a higher and worthier model. The historian of English music, though that will be a short history, after all, will have to trace the surprising influence of the German school. And he will have to own also that these dozen royal songs came far too soon, before the public education began, before Mr. Chappell devised his admirable Popular Concerts. They are sound good music; elegant often, and certainly not conventional in shape. An English amateur composer, and especially an amateur composer of rank, is certain to trip along the regular walks of the ordinary pattern; and we know the regulation accompaniment which might be written by machinery. But in these German songs of Prince Albert there is an unconventional variety, with a free fancy and imagination, with a solid purpose, which is rarely seen. They will be found "to hold their own," as the phrase runs, fearlessly, when put beside productions of greater name and far more pretension, and will bear comparison with the works of professional composers. It is curious to look over the joint work of these two young patricians, and see what enthusiasm, what feeling, there is both in words and music. They show besides a true affection; many of the little stanzas being written by one brother for the other to set to music. One even is addressed fondly "To my Brother." Hat so lang mein Lied geschwiegen, Soll es heute auferstehn, Ist auch noch so weit die Reise, Und es flüstert dann ganz leise, Denkst des Bruders du auch hier? Von der Heimath, von dem Norden, Which has been rendered: And have I the Muse forsaken, Though I loved her once so well? All a brother's love to tell. Far though thou art doomed to wander, They can breathe in softest measure, They can reach where thou dost roam; And guide thy heart to love and home. Here is a pleasing token of mutual affection, and though the English version savours more of Bunn than of Tennyson, the German is earnest. The music is in the true German strain, beginning with the simple Hertz, mein Herz pattern common to many a German song, with a rich change of the sort to which Kücken is so partial, and a pretty and original phrase before entering on the burden: Can ask thee if thou think'st of me, Can ask thee if thou think'st of me. This is a graceful phrase of introduction, and what follows is singularly pretty. Once some Italian verses attracted the Prince's fancy; and with that wish to make them his own in some fashion, which is the homage we always offer to what we like, he set to work to put music to them. The result is a singularly pretty song, quaint also, as suiting the oldfashioned words, "Ah, che il destino, mio bel tesoro, It is worth while quoting this little song here, and without giving it any exaggerated praise, it is impossible not to acknowledge the presence of musicianship, and of a mind that was writing because it had a thought to express, and could express it clearly. |